Gospel Story Finder

For my first teaching job, I took my young family to Las Cruces, New Mexico. It was very different from Idaho. Instead of lawns, most people had gravel. Instead of wood and brick, the houses were made of adobe and stucco. Instead of grass and trees, there was sand and creosote. They had things that they called rivers, but there was no water in them. They had mountains, but they weren't covered with trees; instead they appeared to be nothing but dirt and rock. Everything seemed to poke you, pinch you, bite you, or sting you. I looked about me and decided that it wouldn't be long before we moved away and went somewhere more attractive.

But as it turned out, we stayed for 17 years. We raised our children there, built an opera company, served in the Church, and came to love the people of the Mesilla Valley. We built a house in the desert and got to know its myriad plant and animal life: the cactuses, the mesquite, the jameston weed, the jackrabbits, the lizards, even the snakes and tarantulas. We camped and hiked with our children in the mountains. My wife built Christmas wreaths out of pods from yucca plants. We first endured, then tolerated, then embraced the hot green chili that grew in the fields along the Rio Grande. We discovered that there were toads in the desert that slept in the sand for 11 months of the year, but when the summer monsoons came they would come out of their torpor and hop all over the streets, yards, and sidewalks, and lay eggs in the short-lived pools of standing water. In a few days the puddles were filled with polliwogs, then in a few more they would change into toads and burrow into the sand again. We also discovered that every three or four springs, when the winter had been just right, millions of orange Mexican poppies would blanket the valleys and mountainsides. Nearly every evening-spring, summer, fall, and winter-we were treated to a magnificent sunset. And the weather! As former Idahoans, we especially enjoyed our annual New Years' Day picnic. We came to love New Mexico. Just like Idaho and Michigan, we found it to be beautiful. We just needed to get to know it.

Later, after the terrifying experience of a wartime Nazi concentration camp, she found herself face to face with one of the S.S. guards.

“It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there—the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, [her sister] Betsie’s pain-blanched face.
“He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. ‘How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.’ he said. ‘To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!’
“His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
“Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.
“I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
“As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
“And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself” (Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, New York: Bantam Books, 1971, pp. 44–45, 238).

When the McCanns first saw it set amongst acres of pine trees on idyllic Kangaroo Island, they knew they had to secure the holiday home. Evonne and David Sandelin McCann envisioned retreats here with their five children and youth camps for their stake in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In the years since, all their dreams became reality. The McCanns generously opened their home to friends and the Church’s youth groups, who have wonderful memories of staying there—experiencing dusk surrounded by kangaroos, wallabies, possums, and spotting koalas snuggled in the boughs of the eucalyptus trees.

The highlight of our mission was the visit from the first members in Ukraine. We had prepared ourselves. The mission president’s wife spoke Russian, and even I learned part of one of the ordinances in Russian. These members had such a reverence for the house of the Lord. As they came and left, they bowed in humility. They were so happy they could receive their endowments, and many cried for joy and didn’t want to leave the temple.

The friendships began, as many good things do, at Christmas. And even though right now the sun was beating down, the five young people and two leaders headed to Quitovac today were quick to tell their Christmas story.
“Brother Rehm got things going, I guess,” said Brian Simmons, 18, referring to Norbert Rehm, a high councilor in the Tucson Stake who previously served as branch president on the Indian reservation. Through that association, Brother Rehm became aware of the Alberque School in Quitovac, a school in need of help.
“It’s a boarding school where parents who can’t afford to raise their children send them to live,” Brian explained. “The government built the school for the Indians, but it’s funded only by donations.”
Conditions are tough. The dormitory is a barracks-like structure with concrete floors and broken windows. There is no running water. Showers from a bucket are allowed once a week. Two small bathrooms serve all 70 children. Toilets don’t flush unless tanks are filled with water carried from half a mile away. Electricity is available only when a generator is working—twice a year. Sometimes food runs out.
“To keep warm, the kids sleep two to a bed” (four to a bunk bed), said Danyel Colvin, 15, also of the Tanque Verde Ward. “In the winter, the cold wind blows right in.”
The LDS youth wanted to help. With Brother Rehm acting as go-between with the school and the Mexican government (there are strict limitations about who and what—like glass for windows—can cross the border), a campaign was launched to gather supplies the school could use. Youth in the Tucson 17th Ward gathered and prepared clothing and toys. Canned food, some basic medical supplies, and vitamins were also collected. When the ward was divided to form the Tanque Verde and Bear Canyon Wards, both units kept the project going.
The day after Thanksgiving, about 30 young Latter-day Saints and their leaders (one dressed as Santa Claus) headed to Quitovac. “We got our first look at the village,” Danyel said. “Many houses were built only of sticks. There were no trees or bushes, no roads. Just dirt and some buildings.” The school yard—an administration building, a study building with two classrooms, a covered pavilion for outdoor assemblies, and the dormitory—was also set in a barren landscape.
“Then we met the children,” Danyel continued. “There were lots of kids with no shoes. It was cold and windy, but they were wearing shorts and T-shirts.”
“We started by handing out some candy,” said Michael Walston, 14, of the Tanque Verde Ward. Then, with help from school officials, shoes and clothing were distributed. And toys.
“I helped one boy put together a toy,” Michael’s sister Susanne, 17, remembered. “He kept talking and talking. He knew I didn’t understand Spanish, and he didn’t understand English. But it was like I was his best friend. We didn’t have to speak the same language. We could communicate without saying anything.”
That was typical of the magic that happened. Teenagers and young children paired up like they’d known each other forever. There was a Christmas program, there were lots of hugs, and there was a lot of joy in Quitovac that day. But the thing Susanne remembers most is how eager the children seemed just to have someone take an interest in them.
“Sure, they were glad we brought some things,” she said. “But more than that, they wanted to share with us, even if all they could share was a smile.” That was what made the memory pleasant. That was what made a return to Quitovac worthwhile.

At 10 years of age, he read all 16 volumes of the family’s illustrated Book of Mormon and Church history stories and decided to follow Joseph Smith’s example. Sneaking into a grove of trees across the road from his home, he knelt, prayed, and received a confirmation from the Holy Ghost that Jesus Christ is his Savior, Joseph Smith was a true prophet, and the Book of Mormon is true.
That conviction has spurred a lifetime of dedicated service in the Church, including as an Area Seventy, stake president, and president of the Utah Orem Mission. At the time of his call, Elder Evanson was serving as a Valiant activity leader in his ward in Lethbridge.

Eliana Verges de Lerda, a member of the Church in Argentina, met her friend Anabel when they were both six years old. Their friendship grew as they went to school together. During that time, Eliana never hid the fact that she was a member of the Church.
“I felt very comfortable talking about the gospel with Anabel, even though we didn’t share the same beliefs,” she says.
When the girls were 14, Anabel agreed to listen to the missionaries, but she decided not to be baptized.
Eliana was disappointed, but this did not stop her from continuing their friendship; nor did it stop the gospel discussions. A few years later, Eliana invited Anabel to attend seminary with her. During the lesson, Anabel felt the Spirit very strongly. As Eliana prepared to go to the temple a few days later, Anabel told her, “I promise to go with you next time.” Anabel was baptized a short time after.
Anabel’s conversion did not take days; it took years. The process was possible because Eliana was her friend first—regardless of whether or not Anabel felt an interest in accepting the gospel.

Many years ago in the ward over which I presided as the bishop, there lived a couple who often had very serious, heated disagreements. I mean real disagreements. Each of the two was certain of his or her position. Neither one would yield to the other. When they weren’t arguing, they maintained what I would call an uneasy truce.

One morning at 2:00 a.m. I had a telephone call from the couple. They wanted to talk to me, and they wanted to talk right then. I dragged myself from bed, dressed, and went to their home. They sat on opposite sides of the room, not speaking to each other. The wife communicated with her husband by talking to me. He replied to her by talking to me. I thought, “How in the world are we going to get this couple together?”

I prayed for inspiration, and the thought came to me to ask them a question. I said, “How long has it been since you have been to the temple and witnessed a temple sealing?” They admitted it had been a very long time. They were otherwise worthy people who held temple recommends and who went to the temple and did ordinance work for others.

I said to them, “Will you come with me to the temple on Wednesday morning at 8:00? We will witness a sealing ceremony there.”

In unison they asked, “Whose ceremony?”

I responded, “I don’t know. It will be for whoever is getting married that morning.”

On the following Wednesday at the appointed hour, we met at the Salt Lake Temple. The three of us went into one of the beautiful sealing rooms, not knowing a soul in the room except Elder ElRay L. Christiansen, then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, a General Authority position which existed at that time. Elder Christiansen was scheduled to perform a sealing ceremony for a bride and groom in that very room that morning. I am confident the bride and her family thought, “These must be friends of the groom” and that the groom’s family thought, “These must be friends of the bride.” My couple were seated on a little bench with about a full two feet (0.6 m) of space between them.

Elder Christiansen began by providing counsel to the couple who were being married, and he did so in a beautiful fashion. He mentioned how a husband should love his wife, how he should treat her with respect and courtesy, honoring her as the heart of the home. Then he talked to the bride about how she should honor her husband as the head of the home and be of support to him in every way.

I noticed that as Elder Christiansen spoke to the bride and the groom, my couple moved a little closer together. Soon they were seated right next to one another. What pleased me is that they had both moved at about the same rate. By the end of the ceremony, my couple were sitting as close to each other as though they were the newlyweds. Each was smiling.

We left the temple that day, and no one ever knew who we were or why we had come, but my friends were holding hands as they walked out the front door. Their differences had been set aside. I had not had to say one word. You see, they remembered their own wedding day and the covenants they had made in the house of God. They were committed to beginning again and trying harder this time around.

The story of the Willie and Martin handcart companies has become symbolic of the faith and hope of the early pioneers. It is a miracle that only about 200 of approximately 1,000 company members died.8 The faith-filled and hope-filled effort of their rescuers, accompanied by divine assistance, saved the handcart companies.9
After leaving the Salt Lake Valley, the rescuers were hit by the same early, severe, and unrelenting winter storms that engulfed the handcart companies. In the face of nature’s ferocity, some of the rescuers faltered in their faith, lost hope, and turned back.
In contrast, Reddick Allred steadfastly manned a rescue station for three weeks in hazardous winter weather. When another rescuer tried to persuade Brother Allred to join him in turning back, Reddick refused:
“I declined his proposition, and … advised him to stay, for the lives of the company depended up[on] us,” he wrote in his journal. “He then … moved that as I was president of the station, they center their faith in me, that I should get the word of the Lord to know what we must do. To this I objected as [the Lord] already said what he would [have us] do.”10
Such unwavering faith in times of trial creates steadfast men and women and gives sure, steady direction when potentially disorienting storms rage. One of the fruits of such faith is that those who possess it will be in a position to nurture, rescue, and bless others. Imagine the warmth Reddick Allred felt as he saw the handcart company come into his station. Imagine the joy the company felt when they saw him!

Some years ago a Reuters dispatch which appeared in the daily press mentioned how an American who wanted to trace his long-lost relatives in Great Britain succeeded—for the price of one airmail letter to London. Mike Archdale, age 25, Miles City, Montana, knew only that his grandfather Lionel Dawson Archdale had emigrated to the United States from Northern Ireland at the end of the nineteenth century. So Mike Archdale wrote to the only address he knew in London—the British Tourist Authority—and asked for help in finding his relatives.
His letter was opened at the tourist authority by a public relations officer—named Gilbert Archdale.
Gilbert Archdale did a little research and replied to Mike: “Hello. I’m your cousin!”
The rest is history.

A number of years ago I lived in the Fiji Islands in the South Pacific. At the time I was serving in the district presidency with President Semitie Langa Qulotuto. Annually the Fijian Saints prepared for a temple visit to New Zealand: it being the closest temple to Fiji at the time. As you can imagine this was a great expense to the Saints. The members would have to save years and years to have enough money to take their family across the sea to New Zealand to receive their temple blessings.
This particular year a family by the name of Tomassi Ringamoto made the decision to go to the temple. They realized that they would never be able to go to the temple in New Zealand on their present income. The only way that they could go was for Brother Ridamoto to take a early retirement from his work and thereby applying his retirement pension to the temple excursion. The Ridamoto’s fasted and prayed and made such a decision.
I remember counseling with the district president, about Tomassi’s decision and the necessity of providing for a family. President Langa opened his scriptures and he read from Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lead not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and he shall direct thy paths.” President Langa reminded me the Lord had directed the path of Brother Ringamoto and that I shouldn’t interfere and he reminded me of the great trust the Polynesian had in their Lord Jesus Christ. I have to admit that I was embarrassed for my shortsightness
The temple excursion was marvelous. I can remember the Ringamoto family dressed in white as they prepared to have their children sealed to them. It was truly a joyful occasion. But in the back of my mind I had the thought “When they return home, there will be no employment to provide for his family.” Jobs of any kind were very scarce, but the faith of the Ringamoto’s was an example to us all. There perseverance over the next several months was inspiring. A job finally did open up. Not as good as his previous employment but it was enough to provide for his family.
In 2004 I returned to Fiji. Since the time I had lived there, the Fijian Saints were blessed with their very own temple. I visited the temple. The greeter at the temple that day was the First Counselor in the temple Presidency Tomas Ringamoto. It was a grand reunion after twenty-one years.
I was reminded of the scripture in Ether “Dispute not because ye see not, for you receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.” The Ringamoto’s wanted their temple blessings and were willing to make sacrifices. However the Lord’s comprehended the end from the beginning. What the Lord needed was a future temple presidency. I learned a great lesson about trusting in the Lord that day.

The story of the founding of the Church in Kazakhstan suggests another role that some adventurous Church families will play. About three years ago a major law firm approached the Law School looking for a business lawyer willing to go to its office in Almaty, Kazakhstan. One of our graduates who had been in practice for several years responded. He and his family have now been in Kazakhstan about three years. Two other expatriate families have moved in. As recently reported in the Church News,31 the Church is now organized in Kazakhstan. These founding families are praying for someone to come with greater fluency in Russian, or with other gifts, so that they can teach and train new Church members more effectively.

During conference over the past weekend, you heard several talks about the need for couples. Let me tell you a secret. You don’t have to wait until you are 65. I have been convinced as long as I have been teaching at the Law School that one of the great waves of missionary work we will see in our lifetime is that performed by families who, like Ammon, decide to go out to the frontiers of the kingdom, dedicated to serving those they find there and hoping to build the kingdom in these locations. This activity will not be for everyone, and there is much to be done on the home front.32 But some of you will feel this call and will see unparalleled growth in the Church as a result of your faithfulness and witness.

Consider one other example that suggests another kind of role we all can play. I have a nonmember friend who has played a very important role in a country sensitive enough that I will not name it. He tells me that over the past few years, through a chain of coincidences, he has found himself being befriended by Church members at almost every turn. When he first came to the U.S., the librarian at his university was a Latter-day Saint who helped him immeasurably. Later he studied at another university, where he met additional Latter-day Saints. I heard of him through yet another organization and invited him to our BYU conference. He has subsequently met some Church members in his own country. He was ultimately retained to help secure legal recognition for the Church. In connection with rendering this service, he was asked what he would charge. The lawyer who asked him told me that at the time he was silent for several minutes. Then he said, “I really don’t know what to do. I have been benefited so much by friends in your Church that I don’t know whether I should charge at all.” In the end he was persuaded to take some compensation, but I’m sure it was much less than his help was worth.

It was often difficult for those in the 1830s to accept that the Lord spoke to them—as it is for many in our day, especially for those who call themselves intellectuals. It should not have been, but it was. One of the early “intellectuals” of the Church, William McLellin, was humbled when he decided to test Joseph Smith. He wanted some outward proof that these revelations came from God. He formulated in his mind five questions that he wanted answered that only the Lord and he would know. Without telling Joseph Smith the questions, he requested a revelation. We can read the result of this inquiry in section 66 of the Doctrine and Covenants. The Lord gave this section in answer to these five questions that only McLellin and the Lord knew. It may be interesting for you to determine if you can discover what these five questions were. As Joseph dictated that revelation, McLellin got the confirmation he sought. He then recorded his personal testimony of the divine calling of the Prophet Joseph. He said,
I now testify in the fear of God, that every question [was] answered to my full and entire satisfaction. I desired it for a testimony of Joseph’s inspiration. And I to this day consider it to me an evidence which I cannot refute. [Ensign of Liberty, p. 61]
Joseph Smith is a true Prophet . . . of the Lord and . . . has power and does receive revelations from God. [Letter from William E. McLellin to relatives, 4 August 1832, RLDS Archives, p. 4]
In spite of this witness, McLellin left the Church.

“Are we going to make this marriage work, or not?” he asked.
Seven months married, six months pregnant, I sat on the bed, tears streaming down my cheeks and spotting my nightgown. I couldn’t give my husband an answer!
Jim, a nonmember, and a lieutenant junior grade aboard a U.S. destroyer, sailed out of San Diego, California, harbor every other week. He loved his duty, his friends aboard ship, and coming home to his sweetheart. But I was miserable! Because I was alone every other week and living in a strange city with no friends, no family, and (since I was inactive) no Church affiliation, I sank often into a state of despondency. Morning sickness, nausea, and a growing waistline did not improve my attitude. I felt trapped!
At the end of each “out to sea” week, Jim would return, ever the optimistic, expecting to find a happy, smiling wife. But after too many days of lonely vigilance, I was anything but sunshine. A dark gloomy cloud settled over our little rented bungalow. Doubts assailed me. I wasn’t sure I loved him. He didn’t seem to understand me or my needs. Was this what wedded bliss was supposed to be like? We had tried to talk it out before, but each time we satisfied only surface deficiencies, never the real problem.
Now we sat facing each other across the bed, our relationship teetering seriously. What were we going to do? The word divorce arose. Is that what we wanted? It carried a sound of finality, of permanency, and made us involuntarily shudder. But how could we change?
We sat in silence, pondering. Then Jim looked up. “Judith,” he said, “I think our problem is one of selfishness. Are you willing to make an honest effort to try an experiment? For the next thirty days, I’ll think only of you and your needs, and you think only of me and my needs. If at the end of that time our marriage has not improved, then we’ll talk about … about another solution.”
I agreed. I wanted—hungered for—happiness.
“But we must guard against one thing,” Jim warned. “We must not predetermine each other’s actions judging them against what we would like. Our wants may be out of proportion to what we receive, and disappointment may occur. This is to be a total concentration of what we can do for each other.”
The next morning I slipped out of bed early, fighting nausea and bleary eyes. Jim loved large hot breakfasts; I preferred sleeping later, with a light morning snack. Nevertheless, I cooked a large breakfast for him. Jim smelled the food and came into the kitchen smiling. So much for sleeping in! Even though every morning I still fought nausea, I cooked special breakfasts.
“Honey, I can hardly wait to get up in the morning just to see what exciting menu is on the table,” Jim said. “You’re a marvelous cook and I love it!” With this encouragement, my breakfasts continued to improve—and so did my willingness to prepare them.
The second big change came during those week-long assignments when Jim was out to sea. I took walks every day, started conversations with the local grocer and his wife, immersed myself in uplifting books and music, and shut every thought of self-pity out of my mind. Fridays required long preparation. I knew his optimism envisioned me running out the door and into his arms—so I ran! And then I led him back into the house to a carefully prepared meal. Romance blossomed again!
One night he said, “I feel like seeing a movie. Would you like to go?” Actually, I was tired and thinking about retiring early, but I remembered the commitment and grabbed my coat. Perhaps the hardest part is doing what you don’t feel like doing, without minding. The key, I’ve found, is attitude. Discomfort becomes insignificant when you have a genuine desire to please each other.
Of course I didn’t do all the changing in our marriage. Jim, too, kept his part of the commitment—and he did it in ways he knew would be most meaningful to me. His largest contribution was personalized attention. Five-minute rubdowns to my aching limbs and back expanded to an hour, soothing my nerves as well as my body. He provided more opportunities for talk and relaxation—taking me away from our four walls on weekends into the sunshine, to the beach, or to the park for archery or picnics. And he listened more attentively to what I was feeling and going through. He perceived how easily my feelings of confidence could fail, and so he reminded me of my positive traits during those periods to bolster my ego.
Even though he was only twenty-three years old, Jim commanded one hundred men aboard ship—men who saluted and followed his orders daily. Sometimes I had suspected he unconsciously desired the same behavior from me. But, happily, during our thirty day experiment, that harsh edge disappeared. In a matter of two weeks, I began to feel cherished, appreciated, and loved.
Our “extreme” commitment meant keeping each other’s needs always in the background of our thoughts; it meant asking ourselves each day “What can I do for him/her? How can I show I care?” It meant—for both of us—literally eliminating the feelings and thought of “I demand!” and “What about me?” and “Why doesn’t he/she … ?”
At first changes in our marriage were changes of attitude, but they were based upon the true principle of unselfishness, and our understanding and acceptance of the principle dictated our actions. We paid the price to please each other, and in that process discovered the beginnings of true love. All it took was to give instead of take; to be thoughtful instead of thoughtless; to desire to please rather than be pleased.

Lately I have become good friends with my Grandmother Brocklebank. It all started a little over a year ago, when she completed my four-generation program. Then after she was baptized, I would go over to her house and we’d talk about different things. Her favorite thing to talk about is Church history. Sometimes when I listen to her, I’m awfully glad that Brigham Young never lived long enough to meet my grandmother. He would have found his match in Mrs. Brocklebank.
Mom and I were standing inside the front doors of the Alberta Temple, and a man in white clothes was checking our recommends. It was peaceful and quiet in the temple, and the man said that he was happy that we had come. I had just finished telling him that it was our very first time and that we were getting sealed, when Dad came in from parking the car.
“Mother won’t come in,” Dad said.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked as the man gave our recommends back to us.
“I don’t know,” Dad said. He had a pained look on his face, the kind of look that he gets every time Grandma Brocklebank does something that doesn’t make any sense.
“She’s just nervous about coming into the temple,” Mom said. “She needs to be reassured.”
“Maybe you should go out and reassure her, then.”
“If you can’t do it, I doubt if I can,” Mom told him.
“I’ll go talk with her,” I offered.
Mom looked pleased. “That’s a good idea,” she said.
I went out to the car. Mrs. Brocklebank was sitting in the back seat. I climbed in beside her.
With Mrs. Brocklebank you have to watch what you say. I’ve learned that the most successful way to talk to her is to let her do most of the talking. I sat for a while, looking out the car window at the big white temple rising up into the sky. Finally she said, “Forever is a long time to spend with someone, don’t you think?”
“Not if it’s your family,” I answered.
“Your Grandfather Brocklebank might not agree.”
I looked over at Mrs. Brocklebank. I had never heard her talk like this before. Maybe she didn’t really like Grandfather Brocklebank. Maybe she didn’t want to be with him forever. “Did you have a fight with Grandfather Brocklebank before he died?” I asked.
Mrs. Brocklebank was looking at the temple too. I could tell by her eyes that she liked it just as much as I did.
“We had one or two while he was alive,” she said in a sad voice. “I guess that maybe sometimes I’m not a very easy person to get along with.”
I didn’t want to agree with Mrs. Brocklebank, but I didn’t want to disagree with her either, so I didn’t say anything.
“I suppose that they’re all ready to begin in there,” she said after a moment.
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, open the car door, then,” she snapped. “What are you waiting for!”
I got dressed in white clothes, then waited for two hours while the grownups went through the temple. They told me that I wasn’t allowed to do everything with them until I was older. I waited in a room where there were a lot of Church books and some Church videos. After a while I got tired of watching the videos, so I found some paper and made a paper airplane. I didn’t fly it, though. I didn’t think that Heavenly Father would want me to fly a paper airplane inside the temple. Finally a lady came and took me to a room upstairs. Dad and Mom were there, and so was Mrs. Brocklebank. I looked into the mirror on one wall and saw a mirror just like it on the opposite wall. I could see a whole bunch of me going off into the distance. I tried to look past myself to see how far I went, but every time I moved my head, the row of me in the mirrors moved their heads too.
A man dressed in a white suit came in and shook my hand and told me that he was President Spackman, the president of the Alberta Temple. He had a kind face and eyes that sparkled. He stood in front of us and talked about marriage, and I decided right then that when I grow up, I’m going to get married in the temple. Then he told Mom and Dad to kneel at the altar, and he sealed them so that they would never be apart. Then they all turned and looked at me.
“Come here, please, Kenneth,” President Spackman said.
I knelt beside Mom and Dad, and we joined hands on top of the altar. Their hands felt warm and strong. I don’t remember everything that was said, because I was too nervous, but I remember the part about me belonging to Mom and Dad from now on. After it was over, we all stood up; then it was Mrs. Brocklebank’s turn.
Things were a bit confusing because Grandfather Brocklebank was already dead, which meant that my dad had to take his place. Dad was pleased about it, though. I watched as Mrs. Brocklebank knelt at the altar and took his hand. Suddenly I realized that there was something that I wanted to say to my grandmother. I wanted to tell her that I knew now that everything was going to be all right. I knew that Grandfather Brocklebank wanted to be with her. He wanted to be with her because that was the way it was meant to be. Sometimes people in families get mad at each other, but that isn’t important. What’s important is that families are together. I held up my arm and waved to get her attention. She looked up into my eyes and smiled at me. All the Mrs. Brocklebanks in the mirrors smiled too. I realized that I didn’t have to tell her anything at all. She already knew.

George Albert and Lucy Smith had been married for about 40 years when Lucy began a prolonged struggle with frail health. Though he worried about her and tried to comfort her as much as he could, President Smith’s duties as a General Authority often required him to be away from home. One day after President Smith gave a talk at a funeral, someone handed him a note telling him to return home immediately. He later wrote in his journal:
“I left the chapel at once but my Darling wife had breathed her last before I arrived at home. She was passing while I was talking at the funeral. I am of course bereft of a devoted helpmeet and will be lonely without her.”
“While my family are greatly distressed,” he continued, “we are comforted by the assurance of a reunion with [her] if we remain faithful. … The Lord is most kind and has taken away every feeling of death, for which I am exceedingly grateful.”16

Then one Sunday when he was 16, he and his family were talking about football. Springville (Utah) High School had just won the state championship, and between his sophomore and junior years Eli had really begun to grow, gaining 80 pounds. Playing in college—and maybe after—was beginning to look like a real possibility.
As the family was talking about this exciting possibility, his mother commented, “You know, Eli, if you play professional football, you will have to play on the Sabbath.” Suddenly Eli knew that one day he might have to decide between keeping the Sabbath as his father had taught him and playing football.
Several universities recruited him to play for them when he finished his senior season. At this point, playing football first began to clash with doing what he knew he should. When he told recruiters he intended to go on a mission, two of the schools, Washington and Stanford, lost interest. But that didn’t deter him. More than once as he was growing up, his father had taken out his mission slides, and the family had watched as he told about his mission. Eli had always known that he, too, wanted to go on a mission, and he never questioned that decision.
Eli finally chose to attend BYU, and he played there his freshman year before leaving on a mission to Argentina. He came back two years later, stronger, faster, more coordinated, and even more ready to play football. He played his sophomore and junior seasons. He got married and took classes at the university. But always at the back of his mind, he knew that someday he might have to choose between playing football and keeping the Sabbath day holy.
Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On the other hand, experiences he had had in his life told him things weren’t that simple. When he had arrived on his mission, one U.S. dollar was worth 15 Argentine australs. By the time he left, a dollar was worth about 10,000 australs. In less than two years, people who had been rich in Argentina were not rich anymore. From this Eli knew that he could not trust in money nor make his decision based solely on that.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

Chase and Heston watched as Sister Lind interrupted their Primary lesson by placing an empty chair between them.
“President Benson has a family saying about chairs. Have any of you heard it?” she asked, glancing at the extra seat. When no one held up his hand, she gave the answer herself: “‘No empty chairs!’ What do you suppose President Benson means?”
When still no one responded, Sister Lind held up a picture of Jesus holding a lamb. Smiling, she continued, “Could it have something to do with our lesson on Jesus and His lost sheep?”
Sharla raised her hand hesitantly. “Is the chair missing a person, like Jesus was missing a sheep?”
Sister Lind nodded.
“That’s it, Sharla. Just as Jesus brought back His lost sheep, we’re supposed to find our friends missing from Primary and bring them back to their empty chairs.” She placed her hand on the chair between Chase and Heston. “Now, who is missing from our class? Who needs to come back and sit in this chair?”
The whole class turned to one another and mumbled just one name—“Charles.” No one dared to shout it out. They were all reluctant to talk about Charles because his mother had died only two months before.
Redheaded Charles had loved Primary, especially singing time, but he hadn’t come to church for almost three months. The empty chair in the classroom suddenly came alive with loneliness. Charles wasn’t in it, and the other children missed him.
“What can we do?” Heston asked.
“Well, Charles is what the rest of our lesson is about. We’re going to discuss what we can do for him, and then we’ll pray for help.”
The class erupted with ideas: “Let’s ask him to play baseball!” “How about inviting him to the Primary talent activity?” “Isn’t it almost time for his birthday? Why don’t we do something for his birthday?”
Sister Lind pulled out her roll and looked at the birthday list. “You’re right,” she announced. “His birthday is next Saturday.”
Jessica jumped up and suggested, “What if we took balloons and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him at his house?”
Heston and Chase pulled faces. “The balloons are OK, but do we have to sing?”
Sister Lind laughed. “Of course you’ll sing.” She smiled at Jessica and said, “That’s a fine idea.” To the whole class, she added, “I also think that while we’re there, he’d like to be invited to the Primary activity. Let’s meet at my house on Saturday at ten o’clock.”
When everyone agreed, Sister Lind looked at the empty chair again. “Before we have the closing prayer, I want to remind you to remember Charles in your individual prayers this week.”
On Saturday morning the children climbed into Sister Lind’s van and went to Charles’s home. “Before we get out,” she said, turning around in her seat, “don’t forget about the talent activity.” She winked encouragingly at Chase as she challenged him to invite Charles to it. “The rest of you must show Charles that you really want him to come,” she told them.
The balloons bobbed gaily as the children piled out of the van. Only Chase walked slowly toward the house—he was wondering how to invite Charles to the activity.
A dog bounced out the door when Charles opened it. “Look who’s here, Dad!” he shouted with a surprised look on his face. “It’s Sister Lind and my Primary class!”
“Happy birthday to you,” they chorused. “Happy birthday to you. …”
“Ar-rooo!” a strange voice joined in, unheard by all but Sister Lind. …
“Happy birthday, dear Charles. …”
“Ar-rooo!”
This time they all heard Charles’s basset hound, Bowser, “singing” with them, his head thrown back for a full-throated sound.
“Ar-rooo-ooo!” he finished the song for them, then gave them a big doggy smile, rolling his head to one side and watching the children and Sister Lind laugh.
“Charles, Bowser likes to sing, too,” Heston shouted.
“He sure does,” Charles said, hugging his dog tightly. “He loves music as much as I do.”
Chase saw his opportunity. “Then how about singing with us for the Primary talent activity?”
The class stopped giggling at Bowser and looked expectantly at Charles. “Dad, can I?”
Charles’s dad was quiet. He just looked down at the floor. Their whole plan might have ended awkwardly right then if Heston hadn’t exploded with a fresh burst of giggles. “Hey, Charles,” he chortled, “can Bowser sing with us for the show? Do you think he’d do it?”
Bowser loved the idea! He lifted his head high and sang his loudest “Ar-roo.”
Charles’s dad lifted his head, too, and watched the happy faces of his son and his son’s friends as they again broke into helpless laughter. “Sure,” he said softly. “Maybe I’ll come too.”
During the next few weeks Charles, Bowser, and the rest of the class practiced their special act at Sister Lind’s house. Bowser enjoyed certain notes more than others, so Sister Lind played through her music until they found the song that appealed the most to him.
On Primary Talent Night, everyone’s family and friends crowded into the cultural hall. After the opening prayer, the bishop announced, “And now for a unique opening act: Sister Lind’s Valiant A class will accompany Bowser, the singing dog!”
Charles and his classmates led Bowser onto the stage, and Sister Lind stood below them. “Look across the room and tell me what you see,” she whispered.
The children looked out at the hall filled with people. Charles waved when he saw his dad sitting in the back, surrounded by Sister Lind’s family.
“No empty chairs!” Sharla told Sister Lind excitedly. “There are no empty chairs here tonight—or in our class, anymore.”
“That’s right!” Sister Lind gave them all a big smile and Bowser a pat, which made his tail wag with a thud on the stage. “Now let’s sing!”
The children’s voices rang, and so did Bowser’s. The room rocked with laughter at the hound’s musical howls. Everyone—including the children and Bowser—was having a good time. And best of all, there were no empty chairs.

Many of you have filled missions. Many of you are thinking about it. One of our nephews wrote a letter home from the mission field. He and his companion were in one of these situations where two young Mormon elders had come up against a very professional scholar of the Bible, one who really knew how to spell Haggai, for example, or who knew where to find Lamentations sandwiched in there in the Old Testament.

They finally had the man convinced that he ought to read the Book of Mormon. He read the Book of Mormon, and they came back to talk to him about it. He didn’t know what to do. He really understood the Bible, but there was this other book that he didn’t know what to do with. As he began to give way to that feeling, confusion took over; darkness and depression enveloped him. The missionaries decided to give him a blessing, and the feeling lifted.

As they were marveling about this, there came a knock at the door, and two other missionaries from another church (that some of you may have tangled with) were there. They were invited in, and the man excitedly told them what happened to him. Immediately there was rancor. The two other missionaries began to protest: “There is no revelation and there is no other word but the Bible.” Well, the whole tone of the gathering had changed. The missionaries kept very quiet. They knew when they were being intimidated. Then, as this nephew wrote home, he said, “Suddenly, as I sat there, I found myself praying to Heavenly Father. We had a golden prospect, someone that we really had in the palm of our hand for the kingdom. Why should I be sitting there intimidated?”

A little warm feeling began to creep in him: “We have the truth; they don’t.” So then he turned his thinking around and prayed, “Heavenly Father, help me, help me, guide me.” And the little warm feeling grew and became a big feeling, he said, and “I felt the Spirit grow within me until I took courage.” This young elder then spoke forth with power of the Spirit, ending by saying, “Why don’t we all kneel in prayer?”

They did and before he could pray one of those other missionaries prayed in a boisterous, multiplying-words manner. The Spirit didn’t change much. Then this young, comparatively inexperienced Mormon elder who felt the Spirit grow within him moved forward prepared now, took his turn. It was a gentle prayer—a prayer of thanksgiving for a prophet today, for an additional witness that Christ is the Redeemer, for a gospel that gives people answers when they need them. The prayer was over, the others quickly left, and the investigator made plans to join the Church.

As an example of this process, let me share with you an experience I had when I was on assignment in South America. I was asked by the Brethren to divide a stake and choose new leadership for the new stake.

I realize that to some of you this may not sound like a very difficult assignment, but let me assure you that it is a very important responsibility. The reality was that I knew the Lord had already chosen, by the process we have been discussing, the man he wanted for stake president. You should know that the General Authorities seek to know the mind and will of the Lord in order to extend on his behalf the call from him to his sons and daughters to serve.

In this instance, when I arrived at the stake to begin the interviewing of the potential leaders, the current stake president advised me there were only three men who could possibly be considered to serve as the stake president. Since I do not speak nor understand Spanish, everything that was said to me had to be translated and everything I said also needed translating. I explained to the stake president that the procedure of the Church was that I would interview all of the priesthood leaders living within the new stake.

Since there were over thirty priesthood leaders to be interviewed through the interpreter, that process took considerably longer than normal. Late Saturday night I had not found the person the Lord wanted to preside over this new stake. I reviewed once more with the current stake president all of the potential leaders. We discovered that there was one man who lived in a small district that was being incorporated into the new stake. I inquired after this man and learned that the reason he had not come in for an interview was that he was at home caring for his wife and three children who were ill. Telephone communication, as you know, is very limited in many parts of South America; so it required sending someone out to this brother’s home, which was some distance away from where we were, to invite him to meet with me early Sunday morning.

When this fine man arrived I interviewed him, and I knew this was the man to be the new stake president. You see, he had been preparing through thirty-four years of living for this call by repenting of his sins and striving to keep the commandments of the gospel of Jesus Christ, by serving a full-time mission, by accepting responsibilities and leadership and teaching positions in the Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that “Every man who has a calling to minister to the inhabitants of the world was ordained to that very purpose in the Grand Council of heaven before this world was” (Teachings, p. 365). I believe this. It behooves everyone of us to live as close to the teachings of the gospel as we can so we will not forfeit our foreordained opportunities to serve the Lord.

I called this faithful brother to serve at 7:20 a.m. Sunday morning, knowing that the general session of the conference would begin at 10:00 a.m. It seemed almost impossible to me how he would ever select his counselors, organize his high council, and make other calls to leadership in such a short period of time.

Expressing my concern that we were under such a terrible time constraint, this wonderful man smiled, reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and then said to me, “Brother Ballard, I am prepared. You see, I was told by the Spirit last night that I would be called to be the stake president. Here are my counselors, here are the men I would like to be my high council, here are the others to serve as leaders of the stake.”

The new stake was organized and the leaders sustained during the 10:00 a.m. session. Immediately following the general session I set apart the leadership of the new stake. All was done through the use of interpreters and was possible because the principle of revelation directed the callings of Heavenly Father’s children.